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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26619667">Antithesis</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/shieldivarius/pseuds/aurumstar'>aurumstar (shieldivarius)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>FFXIVWrite 2020 [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Final Fantasy XIV</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, F/M, Female Azem, Female Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Patch 5.3: Reflections in Crystal Spoilers, Prompt Fill, Tumblr: FFXIVwrite, Tumblr: FFXIVwrite2020, Unnamed Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 06:09:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,003</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26619667</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/shieldivarius/pseuds/aurumstar</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p></p><blockquote>
  <p>  <em>All will be well, you worry too much.</em></p>
  <p>Her words to him before every departure. Her hands in his, clasped across the threshold of his office doorway, a ritual of liminality with him standing within and her standing without. Her, always eager to be on her way, and him, utterly unable to avoid reflection on how different their roles were.</p>
  <p> <em>One of us has to.</em></p>
</blockquote>Fill for the FFXIVwrite 2020 prompt "panglossian."
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Azem/Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch, Solus zos Galvus | Emet-Selch/Warrior of Light</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>FFXIVWrite 2020 [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1916263</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>#FFxivWrite2020 Final Fantasy 30 Day Writing Challenge</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Antithesis</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>All will be well, you worry too much.</em>
</p><p>Her words to him before every departure. Her hands in his, clasped across the threshold of his office doorway, a ritual of liminality with him standing within and her standing without. Her, always eager to be on her way, and him, utterly unable to avoid reflection on how different their roles were. </p><p>
  <em>One of us has to.</em>
</p><p>His words, sure to elicit a laugh out of her every time. A laugh and a shake of her head, and she may have been covered by mask and robe but he could picture her hair tossing around her like a great mane, crinkles around her eyes framing the sparkle within them. </p><p>And then she’d give his hands a squeeze, briefly surround him in her aether and impart the softest of breaths of it to him, before skipping off to whatever far corner of the world that had called her this time. </p><p>He’d hold onto that piece of her aether until she returned, feeling it diminish day by day in her absence, a glowing ember that shrunk and waned without her around to breathe life back into it. She’d always reappear mere hours before the piece winked out entirely; would return to him, surround him in her warmth, her presence, and make him forget that span when he’d only had that little piece of her. </p><p>She would always return, hale and whole and bursting with power. Regaling him with stories that almost made him want to follow her into the unknown. Until the day she didn’t. </p><p>Until the sound filled their ears, the world ended, and her soul was torn in pieces with all the rest of them.</p><p><br/>
When he finds her again, it’s only his wall of contempt for the sundered that keeps him from revealing himself to her immediately. The mortar of eons is crumbling between the bricks of indifference and her soul might still be in pieces but the radiance of it pokes through, rays finding the holes and threatening him with their warmth. He’s drawn to her in a way he has trouble compartmentalizing away, in a way he doesn’t remember ever being drawn to her before.</p><p>He keeps to the shadows, watches her cut down Sin Eaters and slay Lightwardens, and she dazzles his soul sight. And after the Lightwarden of Il Mheg falls and she’s made her triumphant return to the Crystarium, he hears her say it. </p><p>
  <em>“It’s going to be fine. Don’t worry about me.”</em>
</p><p>The language is different, but the cadence is the same. And he looks at the angry corrupted aether seething within her and shakes his head. Optimism spreading through eternity. If he’d been unsure about the identity of her soul before—and he hadn’t been, he’d known her in an instant—her words would have clinched her identity. </p><p>Her eyes are bright and furious when he reveals himself to her, but he worms his way into her circle anyway. Tortures himself with the nearness of her soul. She reassures her friends with her reckless optimism that she’ll come out on the other side each time she leaves the Crystarium for a new adventure, a new part of the First, a new Lightwarden to target. And to him she serves exasperation with a hearty dash of distrust and thinly veiled contempt. </p><p>Her contempt is fine. It keeps him in check, reminds him that she’s half a soul and barely worth his interest. A brief entertainment while they creep ever forward toward the Great Rejoining. A fragment of her aether left while he awaits the return of the real thing.</p><p>He doesn’t realize that he’s taking part of that optimism, holding onto it as he held onto Azem’s words so long ago, until she fails.</p><p>She fails, but not before her very presence has wreaked havoc on his defences, knocked so many of the bricks loose only for her to slide in and support the remaining structure instead. When she can’t hold onto the corrupted Light within her anymore, it bursts and tumbles and <em>rage</em> overtakes him.</p><p><em>Rage</em>. At her, for getting under his skin again; at himself, for letting her. And at her, again, for being so weak, incapable of following through.</p><p>For being so damn hopeful all the time.</p><p>His defences are ruined by her and all he has left is force. So he pushes outward, throws the end of the world at her, makes her experience it the same way he did millennia ago. Millennia ago, without her by his side. Without her faith that all would be well.</p><p>She’s crying by the end of it all, though he knows she doesn’t remember. Not the way she should.</p><p>Not the way he wants her to. </p><p>Just like she took down his walls with her reckless optimism, she strikes down his body. Even if it hurts, even if she strikes him with it again and again and again, it’s almost a pleasure to be wrapped in her aether again. </p><p>Merely half an Ancient, no more than a worm…</p><p>Yet still a force to be reckoned with. She always was. </p><p>The woman who fought volcanoes and won. A half-soul who fended off primals, killed Lightwardens. And through it all, remained true to herself. To the very nature of her soul, regardless of how many pieces it still lacked.</p><p>The woman who stood with him, until she didn’t.</p><p>The woman who followed him into the unknown, and freed him from the chains she found there.</p><p><br/>
<em>All will be well. Isn’t that what you always say?</em>
</p><p><em>Not this time, Emet-Selch.</em> Cold words, accompanied by aether like the sun shining across ice. Promising warmth but too distant to provide its heat.</p><p>
  <em>You're worrying too much. </em>
</p><p>Her mask, white instead of the black he was used to. She hadn’t approved of the Convocation’s methods for silencing the sound. Had left, and this time, she hadn’t left him any part of her aether as a promise of return.</p><p>
  <em>One of us has to.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>panglossian; adj. characterized by or given to extreme optimism, especially in the face of unrelieved hardship or adversity</p></blockquote></div></div>
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